


Rain in My Coffee Cup

by doctor__idiot



Series: Tumblr Prompts [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Gen or Slash, Hurt Dean, M/M, Prompt Fill, canonical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: "Don't youeverdo that again."





	Rain in My Coffee Cup

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Don't you ever do that again!"

_NO!_

The thought rips through Sam’s head and there’s one awful moment of paralysis before he shoves forward, but by then it’s already too late. By then Dean’s already there, in front of him, with his back to the creature, slamming against Sam’s chest.

Sam stumbles back, falling ass-first into the dirt and Dean screams as the werewolf tears open his back with claws that are neither human nor canine.The hoarse pain-filled yell pierces Sam’s ears before his brain has a chance to process it and then Dean comes crashing down on top of him. Shaking, blanketing Sam with his own body while the creature slashes at him again, he gives a whistling grunt of pain against Sam’s collarbone and that’s all Sam can take.

His instincts kick in and he wrenches himself halfway out from underneath his brother and pulls his gun, aims, and fires. The bullet hits its mark with a agonizing howl from the werewolf and then it’s suddenly quiet.

Too quiet, save for Dean’s raspy breaths, and Sam scrambles up. He doesn’t think, pulls off his flannel shirt and the T-shirt underneath for good measure, pressing the them against the welling crimson on Dean’s back. Now that he’s kneeling in the wet mud next to his brother quivering form, he realizes it’s not as bad as he first thought.

It’s still plenty bad, though, and he asks thinly, “Can you stand up?”

Dean huffs, grimaces, “I can feel my legs, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Sam gasps a breath of relief. Possible spinal cord injury is something he isn’t ready to think about, but Dean’s words soothe the nagging voice at the back of his mind regardless. 

“Come on,” he says, “I’m gonna have to stitch this.”

Dean makes a pained noise when Sam presses his clothes harder against the wounds. He coughs, turning his face away from the mud. “It’s not–it’s not that bad,” he says, as per usual.

Sam is too shaken up and too cold to argue or even roll his eyes in annoyance. He just tugs his brother up but keeps his arm carefully away from Dean’s back, lets him use Sam as a crutch on the way to the car.

Dean groans again when he lowers himself into the front seat of the Impala, passenger side for once, kneeling on the seat sideways to make it easier on his cut-up back. He mutters something about the upholstery but Sam ignores him, gets around to the driver’s side, and jams the key into the ignition.

“What were you thinking?” he presses, “Fucking hell.”

Dean hums, one palm braced against the dashboard. “I was thinking ‘Oh, here we go again, my little brother needs his ass saved’ and so that’s what I did.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Dean coughs again and Sam’s eyes flick over to him – maybe the cuts are deeper than he estimated – but Dean waves his concern away. He says, “I’m injured, you gotta be nice to me.”

“I’ll show you ‘nice’.” Sam grinds his teeth together, blows out a breath. “Don’t you _ever_ do that again.”

Dean suddenly leans over with a pained hiss and Sam jumps slightly, surprised, when he splays a warm hand across Sam’s thigh. He’s still too pale, sitting too stiffly, his smile too tight but it’s something and Sam can feel the line of his own shoulders relaxing.


End file.
